


Proximity

by LostBlogger_JayBleu



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Comfort, Comfort No Hurt, Conversations, If You Squint - Freeform, Inspired by Night In the Woods, Late Night Conversations, M/M, One Shot, Sort Of, widomauk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26385415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostBlogger_JayBleu/pseuds/LostBlogger_JayBleu
Summary: A short Critical Role one shot inspired by one of my favorite scenes from Night in the Woods.When all is said and done, is proximity really enough?
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Proximity

Caleb sat at the dingy table, not for the first time, staring deep into the bowels of the tankard in his hands. His eyes were heavy. The others had all gone up to bed ages ago. He should follow. But the racing thoughts in his head kept him anchored to his chair as sure as a set of chains.

The usual hustle and bustle of the tavern had quieted to the faint sounds of dishes being washed and stacked in the kitchen. A repetitive cycle of water splashing, steel-wool scrapping, and the tinny clink of precariously poised pots and pans returning to their shelves. 

Footsteps at the stairs.

Caleb lifted his eyes, on guard despite his exhaustion. Purple, leather, and languid stretches through a yawn. Mollymauk. Caleb relaxed his gaze.

“You ought to be asleep.”

“So should you, _ja_?” Caleb replied, no real bite to his comment. He wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t angry, he wasn’t caught in a spiral of memory. For once, he was simply physically exhausted, vaguely distracted. And nothing else.

“Then I suppose we’ll just have to keep this between us,” Mollymauk said, dropping with less grace than usual into a nearby chair.

“I suppose so.” Caleb hardly realized he spoke, his mind already wandering again.

Either several moments or several minutes later, Mollymauk snapped at him, purple fingers disrupting his gaze into the dregs of an ale long finished.

“Copper for your thoughts?” he asked.

Caleb shrugged, but leaned back in his seat.

Molly knew his companions well. Not necessarily their pasts or their goals or what have you. But he knew them, all the same. He knew their mannerisms, their quirks, their habits and battle stances and what little things made them smile.

Molly was a quick study when it came to people. Caleb Widogast was no exception.

Caleb kept to himself, for a lot of reasons. He preferred his own company and the company of his cat, and of Nott, to others. He could predict the behavior of his cat, and of Nott. Not the others. But, on occasion, he would open himself up to the rest of them - in small doses.

Caleb leaned back in his seat and Molly understood he was open to conversation.

“Do you think it’s reasonable?” Caleb asked, seeming to choose each word with care. “For us all to be so connected? After such a short time together?”

Molly was a quick study when it came to people, but they still managed to surprise him.

“I don’t see why not,” he replied, not having given the topic much thought. Molly suddenly glanced at Caleb with more focus than before. “Why d’you ask?”

Caleb shrugged. “I am not good with emotions.”

Molly nodded. Caleb, the man who knew so many words, struggled to express himself more than anyone else Molly had ever met. And that was saying something. “That’s alright. I don’t think you have to be,” he said. “Gods know the rest of us aren’t.”

Caleb scoffed, almost laughed. “I am not so sure.”

Molly gave a nonchalant half-shrug. “That’s alright too.”

But it was a curious thought. Why were they close? Why did _these_ people happen to form such a tight-knit group, willing to trust one another with their lives but not their possessions? It was something larger and more vague than Molly tended to ponder, but it was curious.

“You know, I think it makes sense,” he said suddenly. “We’re a whole bunch of messy people, and it helps a mess to be around another mess.”

“And is that all it is?” Caleb asked. “Just...” He trailed off, as though he didn’t have a word for their specific circumstances.

“Proximity?” Molly supplied.

“ _Ja_.”

Molly waited. Caleb didn’t say anything else. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t,” he admitted quietly. “But for me - maybe for the others too, but... definitely for me... Well. I guess proximity counts for a lot right now.”

Caleb rolled the word through his mind. Proximity. Nearness. Nearest. “And what happens,” he asked, “when proximity is no longer enough?” His voice was scarcely louder than a whisper, flinching at the vulnerability in his doubt.

“Oh, at that point, I don’t think it’ll matter.” Molly sighed, stretched his legs under the table and felt his ankle pop. Much better. “Like I said, proximity counts for a lot, when you don’t have a home,” he said. “And we’re all sort of... homeless right now.”

Caleb stayed silent again, waiting for Molly to continue. A defense when he still didn’t have the right words.

“I think, when the time’s right, we’ll get there. We’ll find a home somewhere.” He really hadn’t given this a lot of thought before now, but the more he spoke, the more certain he was. Things were weird right now, but people have a habit of bonding. You can’t fight alongside someone then turn off the protective instincts from that. Family, Molly knew - and he didn’t know much but he knew this - family forged itself in the heat from tears and wounds. There are very few things stronger than a brothers’ bond.

“And then proximity won’t matter,” Molly said. “Because we will have a home, and it’ll be with each other.”

“Do you really think so?”

Molly shrugged, dared to grin a little at Caleb even though he knew he might scare him off. “Of course I do. Otherwise I wouldn’t have said it.”

“You do say a lot of bullshit,” Caleb said, again, no bite to his comment. He grinned back.

Molly relaxed in his seat, releasing a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His smile softened from teasing to reassuring in that particularly Mollymauk way of his. “That I do,” he agreed, “but not this time. This really could be something great.”

“I’m not so sure yet.”

“That’s alright,” Molly said. “I’ll be sure enough for the both of us until you are.”


End file.
